


A Wart on the Nose of Humanity

by writeskatelive



Category: 9 to 5, Figure Skating - Fandom
Genre: 9 to 5 - Freeform, F/M, Revenge, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeskatelive/pseuds/writeskatelive
Summary: Elena Ilinykh, Miki Ando, and Ksenia Stolbova are three smart, hardworking, and beautiful women constantly getting wronged by their boss, Nikolai Morozov...until one day, they decide to get even.This story is based on the iconic movie “9 to 5”. I got a lot of requests for this, so I finally started working on it and it’s been a lot of fun!
Comments: 18
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

9:00 AM, Tuesday morning

Elena hooked the hem of her skirt over her knee and slid her chair over so half her face was hidden by the chunky computer monitor. She had chosen her outfit with care today—an oversized blue turtleneck, a gray pencil skirt, and no makeup except the thin layer of contour on her cheeks. Her long, dark hair was fastened in a tight bun, and she sat squarely behind the secretary desk, trying to ignore the tremble in her hands.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and a moment later, Mr. Morozov opened the door. He was neatly dressed in a dark gray suit with a briefcase in his right hand and a leather binder tucked under his arm. He had looked striking in the photo on his business card, but ten years, a handful of pounds, and a streak of gray in his oiled black hair had left their mark. Since turning forty a few years back, he’d tried to fight the hands of time with Botox, but the result was an unnaturally firm face with deep dents around his eyes rather than wrinkles.

“Good morning, Elena,” he said with the unscrupulous smile of a dirty politician. His eyes slid over her to the mug of coffee on the desk. She always prepared his morning brew just as he liked it—black with a shot of bourbon to “chase away the morning haze”. “How goes the daily grind?”

She swallowed, keeping her eyes on the computer monitor. “Good morning. I’m fine.”

“Fine? I would expect more than ‘fine’ on a Tuesday morning.” He picked up the mug and perched on the edge of the desk as he took a long sip, one foot propped on his knee. For a moment, she imagined she was the boss and he was the sexy assistant she’d hired to entertain her. Of course, if she could hire any assistant she wanted, she’d pick someone younger, handsomer, and maybe not so repugnant to every cell in her body.

“Well, it’s the same thing every day,” she said. “It’s work.”

“I can think of a few ways to brighten up your day.” He glanced at the closed door, as if to make sure no one was watching, then leaned over the desk. His face was an inch away from hers, his breath smelling of coffee and bourbon. “Dinner tonight, at my place, six-o-clock. I hope you didn’t forget.”

She winced. He spoke with a smile, his voice cheerful, but she knew better. It wasn’t a reminder, it was an order.

“I can’t,” she said. “I have to study.” 

The excuse sounded lame even to her own ears.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. My dear Eteri will be at her mother’s house for the night, and I already picked up the beef cutlets and the champagne. It’s just too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

Eteri was Morozov’s wife. She was a smart, attractive woman in her mid forties, but everyone around the office knew she kept her husband under her thumb. According to Adam, the office gossip, Morozov liked to escape his mundane existence by messing around with the young women at work, and Elena was the latest model.

Morozov stroked Elena’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m assuming you don’t have any plans, so you should be more than available.” He traced the outline of her lips. “Isn’t that right?”

She swallowed. Stand your ground, she reminded herself. “I just don’t feel right about all this. Besides, my exams are coming up.”

He smiled and tapped the tip of her nose. “And that is why this dinner is such a good idea. It would be a lovely thank-you gift.”

Three months ago, she had tried that excuse about the exams. Morozov, always the benevolent boss, had gone to her chemistry professor and paid a hefty sum to ensure she received an A, no matter how poorly she performed on the test. She had begged him not to, but when Morozov had made up his mind about something, there was no stopping him.

“Now, now, you don’t want to disappoint your man, do you?” He kissed her brow. “And you wouldn’t want the dean knowing about the little trick you pulled in chemistry, would you?”

She turned her head away. “You can’t hold that over me. They’ll know it was you.”

Morozov sighed and slipped his wallet from his breast pocket. He counted out a wad of rubles and waved them in the air. “That’s the funny thing about being rich. You could murder the president in front of thousands of people, and every last one of them will look the other way if you give them enough money.”

“Unless his bodyguards shoot you before you can pull out your wallet.”

He frowned. “Elena, Elena, Elena, always the cynic. If you are rich enough, you can pay for bodyguards of your own, who will kill the president’s bodyguards before they can even touch their machine guns. And if you are even richer, you can hire someone else to smuggle a bomb into the conference hall, and when they are destroyed in the explosion, the evidence dies with them.” He tucked the money back in his pocket and gave her that disgusting politician’s smile. “I’ll see you at dinner.”


	2. Chapter 2

9:15 AM  
Miki smoothed down the wisps of black hair that had strayed from her bun. She had been fixing herself in front of the bathroom mirror for nearly ten minutes now, and sooner than later someone was going to tell her to get back to work. But she needed to look professional before she went in there.

She picked a loose hair off the lapel of her beige pantsuit and took a deep breath. This time, she was not going to back down. This time, she would stand up for herself and stay standing until he fell. This time, she was going to get what she deserved.

She checked her silver-framed mother-of-pearl watch. 9:15. By now, he would’ve come through the door, hit on that poor young secretary, and taken his cup of coffee into his office. It was best to approach him while he was still drinking his coffee—he wouldn’t be able to get up and leave before she told him what she needed.

Miki left the bathroom and peeked back out into the main office. Two dozen gray cubicles formed a maze leading to the large office on the far end. The Moscow branch of Clean Energy Solutions was fairly large, but most of the employees worked in the factories or design labs, leaving a small bunch to manage the paperwork.

“Good morning, Miki,” said a friendly, Spanish-accented voice from the second cubicle on the right. A handsome, dark-haired young man turned around in his task chair and flashed a charming smile from beneath his tidy mustache. “How goes it?”

She smiled. “Good morning, Javier. Sorry, I can’t talk much right now. I have to go see the boss.”

Javier frowned. “Aye, good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” She blushed and started to walk away. Since she had been hired three years ago, Javier had always gone out of his way to greet her every morning and ask if he could do anything for her. They usually ate together in the lunchroom, and once he had even babysat for her daughter Sunflower when she couldn’t get off from work. Miki loved how she felt when she was with him, but every time she thought about asking him out for a date, ice-cold fear stopped her.

“Wait!” He dug under his desk and pulled out a small gift bag overflowing with pink tissue paper. “This is for Sunflower’s birthday. I hope she doesn’t already have this one.”

She peeked inside. It was a Barbie doll, still neatly packaged in its box. “Thank you so much. She’ll love it.”

He shrugged. “Ah, de nada! I just thought, ‘what would a little girl like for her sixth birthday?’ and a doll seemed safe enough.”

She smiled and set the bag on his desk. “It’s perfect. Can I just leave this here until after I deal with Mr. Morozov?”

“Oh, of course! Yeah, probably not a good idea to take little dolls into the boss’s office. I mean, I don’t know what he could do about it, but, uh, he doesn’t seem to be the type who enjoys good fun. Go ahead, I don’t want to delay you!”

Miki would’ve rather stayed there talking to Javier for another twenty minutes, but she crossed the office and knocked on the heavy wood panels of the boss’s door.

“Yes, yes, what is it?” came Mr. Morozov’s voice from the other side.

He sounded so annoyed that Miki almost turned back, but she planted her feet and forced herself not to run. Not this time. Before she could hesitate, she pushed the door open.

Mr. Morozov was sitting behind his desk, his feet propped on the tabletop, a coffee mug in one hand and some fancy document in the other. For at least five minutes, he remained perfectly motionless, except his eyes as he read the page, as if he had no idea she was standing there. She coughed.

“Ah, Miki!” He lowered the paper and smiled—an unnerving smile. “What brings you here?”

She took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. He had squinty, shifty eyes that made her uneasy. “I need to leave work at noon today.”

He frowned. “Hmm, not even a ‘good morning’? Miki, Miki, Miki. I’m surprised. What’s gotten into you?”

She folded her arms. “It’s my daughter’s birthday. I need half the day off so I can take her to the amusement park.”

“Oh yes, your daughter.” He sat up straight and took his feet off the desk, setting the document next to a pile of letters. “I completely understand, you know.”

She blinked. That was not what she was expecting to hear. “You do?”

“Of course I do. In fact, that’s what I was planning to talk to you about.”

Miki swallowed. Morozov rarely spoke to her; she had never been his favorite worker. He had begrudgingly hired “that Japanese girl who could copy designs” upon the advice of his superior, and he never failed to remind her that she was lucky to have gotten this job over a native Russian speaker. Javier had helped her improve her Russian over the past few years, but she still couldn’t type or communicate as quickly as the Russian girls who worked in the office. If Morozov had something to say to her, it probably wasn’t good.

“After all, I have a daughter of my own,” he went on. “Annabelle—such a beautiful young lady. Last week she turned eighteen, and you know what she told me? She said, ‘Papa, I’m an adult now. I want to follow in your footsteps and work in clean energy solutions.’ And what better place for her to start than here?” He beamed with pride. “But funny enough, there were no openings for her at this branch—except janitor, and I wouldn’t dream of letting her work in that filth. So perhaps if you need so much time off…” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers. “…you could have it…indefinitely.”

The words hit like a slap as Miki translated them in her mind, and she gasped. “What? You…you can’t just sack me. I’ve been working here for three years.”

He shrugged. “Our president has been in power for twenty years, but does that make him a champion of the people? It’s not about how long you work, Miki. It’s about how well you work.”

She gripped the edge of the desk. “Please. I work hard. I’m efficient. I do as much as I can.”

Morozov bit the end of the pen. “But you’re not my daughter.”

She searched his face, hoping to find even a trace of remorse. But he looked…almost pleased. Satisfied. As if he had been planning to do this for a long time.

“Look on the bright side, Miki. Now you’ll have plenty of time to go dancing around amusement parks with your little…Sunflower, isn’t it? How cheeky! I do hope you have a nice day trying out the spinning teacups.”

Miki turned around and stormed out the door before he could see the tears in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

11:30 AM

Dear Mr. Morozov,

We are delighted to inform you we have received your submission for the IECA Clean Energy Development Project. Your company’s designs were unveiled to great excitement at the IECA’s annual gala in Bern, with several of our top investors making substantial offers to purchase production rights. Individual proposals should arrive via mail within the next 7 business days.

As director of the IECA, I would like to personally compliment you on this genius invention. These silver reactor prototypes are unlike any reactors in the field of clean energy right now. If they can be produced and distributed in place of more primitive reactors, they will greatly reduce pollution and improve the quality of life on our planet for all.

We appreciate your generous contribution to our organization and look forward to further collaboration in the future.

Sincerely,

Alexander Gorshkov, President of the International Energy Conservation Association

Ksenia’s ears were burning, her hands were shaking, and her mouth felt full of bullets. Her eyes scoured the letter again, searching for any mention of her name. She cursed into her teeth.

That unimaginable piece of trash.

She sprang to her feet, pushed the office door open, and slammed the letter on the desktop in front of Mr. Morozov, who was playing Galaga on his computer while absentmindedly scribbling on a notepad with his free hand in an effort to look like he was working.

He glanced up as he heard her, but his fingers kept dancing over the keys, steering the little spaceship. One of the enemy ships hit him from the side, knocking him out of the sky, and red letters ran across the screen: GAME OVER. His red face contorted in frustration, and she would’ve told him to try taking some constipation pills if she wasn’t so furious.

She cleared her throat loudly and shoved the letter across the desk until it was right under his nose. “What the hell is this?”

His eyes widened with surprise, but he flashed his politician smile and raised a playful finger. “Hey, now, young lady, watch your language! We’re in the office!”

“Don’t ‘language’ me. Do you want to explain why you submitted the silver reactor prototypes to the IECA without even mentioning that I single-handedly designed them myself?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, yes, that. Well, the CEO of the company needed to submit one idea from each location, and I was in charge of the Moscow branch. You see, they have such strict deadlines, and your idea was so genius. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind! I worked late for weeks trying to design that thing. You’ve always got me running around doing your dirty work while you sit up here in your office like a Kremlin bureaucrat and take all the credit.”

“Ksenia, Ksenia, take a deep breath. You’ll give yourself an ulcer.” He tapped his pen against his chin. “I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to give you credit on the next project, all right?”

“The next project? Oh, sure, because I have another revolutionary design just sitting around in my underwear drawer.” She scowled. “I’m not falling for that.”

He frowned. “Well, your inventive mind is what holds this company together. That’s why I hired you—to come up with brilliant scientific ideas. Surely you can think of some sort of invention in a timely manner.”

“I can think of five good inventions right now,” she hissed through her teeth. “First up, a machine that catapults dirty cheats straight to hell.”

He blinked and stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she had actually dared to insult him. He spoke slowly, forming each word with contempt. “You will find that I am not a man to be trifled with. I would watch my mouth, if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not me, so how about that?”

“Don’t give me attitude.” He rose from his chair and leaned over the desk, his foul lips two inches from her face. “I can find an inventor with twice your brainpower and half your audacity in a heartbeat.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Spittle flew from her lip and landed on his cheek. His hand flew up to wipe it off.

“Get out of my office,” he growled. “Go back to your desk and check my emails for those proposals from the IECA. If they respond, forward them straight to me without reading them.” He grabbed her chin, pressing his fingers into her jaw. “And if you pull any tricks, I swear on my life I will make you pay. Is that understood?”

She glared back at him, her mind conjuring a dozen ways the emails could get lost. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He let go of her face and patted her cheek, and she curled her hands into fists to stop herself from slapping him. “Now go on, get back to work. The good people from White Nights Energy will be here tomorrow, and those reservations won’t confirm themselves.”


	4. Chapter 4

11:50 AM  
Miki marched across the parking lot and threw the box in the trunk of her silver sedan. It made a low, unsatisfying thump as it landed. There wasn’t much to pack up—just a few knickknacks and some framed photos of Sunflower she had kept on her desk. She would have left sooner, but Adam had gotten the printer stuck while printing pamphlets for his vaudeville show, and she’d spent over an hour trying to help him out before Morozov sacked more than one employee today.

Javier plunked the last box in the trunk and closed the hatch with a sigh. “You know, I’m really sorry this happened. I wish I could do something to help.”

“It’s okay. I mean, you’re helping me with my stuff.” She glanced down at her shoes. “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Aye, you’re probably better off someplace else.” He looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was looking, then lowered his voice. “Between you and me, this Morozov is a real jerk.”

She laughed, but it tripped the tightness in her throat. “I just…I want to thank you for everything. It hasn’t been easy, but you…you’ve made it better.”

“Aw, it’s nothing.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and lowered his eyes. “You know, if you ever want to talk…not like coworkers, but like…friends or something, you can call me.”

She swallowed. “Thanks. I…I will.”

“Javier!” Kaitlyn, a tall blonde woman who worked in marketing, stuck her head out into the parking lot. “Mr. Morozov is looking for you.”

“I’ll be right there.” Javier winced and turned back to Miki. “I’m really sorry.”

She just nodded as he hurried back into the building. Of all things about this job, the only thing she would miss was Javier. And the paychecks, of course, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now, she was going to drive home and take Sunflower to the amusement park.

She had just slipped into the front seat when she remembered the doll she had left on Javier’s desk. Sighing, she climbed out of the car and let herself back into the office.

On her way, she stopped by the open door of the lunchroom. There were always cupcakes, candies, or some kind of treats floating around the office, sent as bribes from other companies looking to invest in Clean Energy Solutions. She’d grab a few for Sunflower on the way out. Stealing some snacks from Morozov’s lunchroom was like a tiny dose of revenge.

She had just stepped inside and started for the fridge when she heard a loud sniffle. Elena was crying at the corner table over a bowl of microwave ramen. Since Elena had started working there last year, she had always seemed like an expressive, emotional young girl, but this seemed different. She was shaking with sobs, her head in her hands with half of her hair pulled out of her bun.

“Hey, are you okay?” Miki said gently, forgetting the desserts.

Elena looked up. Her eyes and face were red, her chin trembling. “I’m fine. Sorry, I just…I shouldn’t be here.”

“No, it’s all right. You’re not bothering me at all.” Miki smiled and moved closer. As the mother of a six-year-old, she knew how to calm down young girls in crisis. “Mmm, ramen. That was my favorite food back in Japan.”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Elena took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I…don’t worry about me. Do you…do you want to sit down?”

“Sure.” Miki took the chair beside her and placed her hand on Elena’s shoulder. “Hey, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Elena bit her lip, then threw down her hands. “Ugh, I just don’t know what to do! This place is horrible, but I have nowhere else to go, and I…I’m scared.” She looked around, checking if they were alone, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “It’s him.”

Miki didn’t need to ask who “him” was, but the way Elena spoke the word pricked her heart with fear. “Did he…did he hurt you?”

“No! I mean…maybe…no, not exactly. I don’t know.” Elena shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.”

“No, no, I can do it. He’s just…he won’t stop bothering me. It started shortly after I first got here, but it’s gotten so much worse lately. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore.” Elena took a long drink of water and sighed. “You know what I’m talking about, right? I overheard Adam talking about it, so I guess the whole office knows.”

“Adam always knows everyone’s business before they know it themselves,” said Miki. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Elena shook her head, the movement pulling the rest of her hair out of the bun. “He’s just all over me. I saw him two nights ago, but he wants me to come over tonight, and I’m scared. I tried to tell him no, but he…he scares me.” She frowned. “Wait, why are you still here? I thought he sacked you.”

Miki sighed. “He did. I was just getting my stuff. But Elena…you can’t just let him keep harassing you like this.”

“I know.” She sniffed hard. “But if I leave, he’ll tell the whole school that I cheated on my exams.”

“Cheated? Why would you need to cheat? You’re one of the smartest people here.”

“He called the university and bribed my professor to give me A’s for every piece of work I turned in, no matter what. I…I didn’t tell him to do it, but he did it. And now if I quit, he’ll tell the faculty that I’m a cheater, and I’ll get expelled.” Elena crumpled up her hair in her hands and sobbed hard.

Miki rubbed her back softly. “Hey, hey, we won’t let that happen. You’re a smart girl, and the faculty is full of smart people. They won’t just have you expelled just because Morozov tried to bribe one of the professors. In fact, he should be the one getting in trouble.”

Elena shook her head. “But he won’t. He’s too powerful. He has so much money that they’ll believe anything he tells them, as long as they get paid. I can’t afford to get expelled, Miki. I want to become an engineer, and I can’t do that if I get kicked out of college.” She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you got sacked.”

Miki sighed. “It’s okay. I just…I wish I could hit him, right in his disgusting mouth. He could fire me after that, but I wouldn’t care, as long as I could do it, even just once.”

“Why don’t you? He has it coming.”

Miki and Elena jumped at the new voice. Ksenia was standing at the fridge, a slim black lunch carrier in her hand. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a crisp white button-down shirt that looked even whiter against her tanned skin. She was shorter than both of them, but her features were striking and bold, sharpened by anger.

Elena was gaping. Miki blushed and started to think of an explanation for her words, but Ksenia’s eyes were fastened on her, demanding an answer.

“No, I couldn’t,” Miki said. “It was just a thought.”

Ksenia frowned and plopped down at their table without waiting for an invitation. “Well, if you can find some other crew who would be more than happy to punch him, let me know.”

“What did he do to you?” said Elena. “I thought you two were close. You were working on that reactor project together…”

“Together.” Ksenia snorted as she unzipped the lunch container and pulled out a six-inch Subway sandwich. “According to Morozov, he did all the thinking while I just sat on his desk like a paperweight. Or at least that’s what he told the IECA when he submitted it without mentioning my name.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Miki. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Ksenia had just taken a large bite of her sandwich, and she chewed with particular relish, as if she was imagining crushing Morozov between her teeth. “We could tell his wife he’s messing around with the secretary. I’ve heard his woman’s like Godzilla in the flesh.”

Elena’s face burned and Miki gasped, eyes wide.

Ksenia frowned. “What? It was just a thought.”

Miki sighed. “There has to be some way we can get back at him! But I don’t know how we could do it without getting in trouble.”

“That’s your first mistake,” said Ksenia. “If you’re afraid of getting in trouble, the deal will never work.”

“Wait,” said Elena. “He’s giving that presentation for White Nights Energy tomorrow, right?”

Ksenia rolled her eyes. “That’s all he’s talked about for the past two weeks. Except for when he’s complaining about his wife.”

Elena tucked her hair behind her ear. “What if we just…caused a little scene in the middle of the meeting? Something that would make the potential buyers think twice about investing.”

“And what do you have in mind?” said Miki.

Elena shrugged. “I don’t know. Striptease?”

Ksenia almost spat out a mouthful of turkey. “Elena, the whole goal is to drive them away, not convince them it’s a great company.” She took a sip of water. “Unless they’re hot.”

Miki drummed her fingers on the table. “It has to be something anonymous. He can’t have any idea we’re behind it, or he’ll have all three of us thrown out on the street before you can even say hello to any of those business partners.”

“Poison’s pretty effective,” said Elena.

Ksenia scowled. “Do you know how many people survive poisonings? Get a sniper.”

“What is with you two?” said Miki. “We’re not killing anyone! We just want to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“That’s it!” said Elena. “We give him something that makes him drowsy so he’ll fall asleep in the meeting!”

Ksenia held up a finger. “You could put it in his morning coffee. By the time the businessmen arrive, he’ll be drooling over his desk.”

“He’ll never suspect a thing,” said Miki. “We could use some of that sleeping powder I used to put in Sunflower’s milk when she was colicky. Odorless, tasteless, and completely invisible.”

“Well, you’re thinking like a criminal now,” said Ksenia. “It’s about time.”

Miki stood up, not hearing her. “I have to take Sunflower out for her birthday! Oh, shoot, I’m going to be so late.” She shouldered her bag and started running for the door before the other two girls could even say a word.

Elena stared at the open door Miki had just run through, then turned back to Ksenia, who had taken the final bite of her sandwich and was chewing with glee.


	5. Chapter 5

8:50 AM, Wednesday morning

Elena hovered over the coffeemaker in Morozov’s office, glancing every few seconds at the door behind her. She checked her watch and tried not to dance in place as she waited. They had ten minutes to pull off this trick, and she felt like a cunning character in a glamorous heist movie.

Ksenia darted in and shut the door with eerie speed, leaning against it as if there was a battering ram on the other side. “All right, you’d better be thanking me big time. You wouldn’t believe the chaos going on out there.”  
“Did you get the packet?” said Elena.

“Oh, of course I got the packet.” Ksenia slapped something that looked like a teabag on the table. “But it’d better work, because now Adam’s spreading rumors that I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Elena snatched up the powder and flipped it over in her hand. CLINICALLY PROVEN TO IMPROVE A BABY’S SLEEP HEALTH. “Well, at least you got it.”

Ksenia frowned and leaned over Elena’s shoulder as she tore the packet open. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll telling everyone the baby’s yours.”

Elena laughed and dumped the powder into the mug. “Aw, we’d make cute babies. My hair, your mouth, my eyes, your knack for scaring everyone who comes within ten feet of you…” Ksenia’s eyes were bulging out of her head. “I’m joking.”

She prepared the coffee as usual, being careful to stir every last grain of powder from the bottom of the mug. Miki wasn’t going to be there until later—since Morozov had fired her, it probably wasn’t a great idea to have her waltzing through the office until after he was sedated.

“Oh, jeez,” said Ksenia as Elena poured the shot of bourbon into the mug. “I’m surprised he’s never passed out from that booze alone.”

“Do you think this is going to work?” Elena stuffed the empty bag in her skirt pocket and checked her watch again. 8:58. They had two minutes to get out of there.

“Of course it’ll work.” Ksenia opened the office door and looked over her shoulder at Elena. “I ordered shellfish appetizers for everyone.”

Elena blinked. “Morozov’s allergic to shellfish.”

“Exactly.” Ksenia winked and disappeared into the corridor.

“Wait!” Elena called out halfheartedly. Panic was running through her limbs like electricity. It was one thing to make the man sleepy, but giving him an allergic reaction? Well, Ksenia never did anything subtly.

She stuffed the packet deeper in her pocket. She’d have to dispose of it after he fell asleep, probably in a public trash can so he didn’t find it. But what if that gossipy Adam snitched? That guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut even if roaches were crawling across his face.

She had just enough time to take her seat at the secretary desk before the door opened. Mr. Morozov was dressed in his best suit—black with a sharply cut lapel framing a blood-red tie. In an instant, he crossed the room and took his coffee mug from her hand. She tried to smile casually as he took his perch on her desk. He didn’t speak or smile, and his foot was tapping rhythmically against the rug, which meant he was nervous.

“Elena, be sure to call each member who sent an RSVP and make sure their planes have landed safely. We can’t afford to start this meeting until each and every one of them is here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Don’t forget to ask about their hotel accommodations. I paid a fortune for the best rooms, and if you remind them of my generosity, they’ll be more likely to make a purchase. If any of them are displeased, tell them they won’t be needed at this meeting.”

Elena nodded. She was used to Morozov’s shady business dealings by now: spoil the potential buyers, flatter them until they were swooning in his lap, and charge exorbitant prices for the simplest inventions.

“And if any of the buyers approach you, act charming. Businessmen love to be swindled by beautiful young women.” He smiled, but his face stiffened a moment later. “Just not too charming.”

“Of course.” The words tasted sour in her mouth.

“That’s my girl.” He touched her cheek, then started heading into his own office. “By the way, make sure that Ksenia ordered enough hors d’oeuvres. I told her three times already, but that woman never listens to anything I say.”

Elena looked down at the paperwork on the desk so she wouldn’t show any reaction. “I’ll be sure to check.”

He disappeared into his office, and she waited a whole minute before she ran to the bathroom. She had to call Miki and tell her about Ksenia’s horrible idea. Well, it had actually been a great idea, if they had been planning to kill him. Which they weren’t. Although if he accidentally died from an allergic reaction to shellfish that Ksenia had accidentally served him because Elena had accidentally forgotten to throw them away…

She locked herself in the stall and called Miki on her phone. The second Miki picked up the line, Elena started babbling uncontrollably.

“Miki, we’ve got a problem. Ksenia ordered shellfish appetizers for the conference, and you know Morozov’s allergic to shellfish…did you know that? I don’t know…the businessmen will be coming any minute—”

“Hold on,” said Miki. “Just calm down. Sunflower’s got three of her friends over and I couldn’t hear any of what you were just saying. What’s going on?”

“Are you sure you sent the emails?”

Miki laughed. “Elena, you’ve asked me that five times already. I’ve got it all under control.”

“Is it blowing up yet?”

“Well, I haven’t been able to check the emails, but I can’t imagine it’s good. Has Morozov said anything about it?”

“Not yet, but he’ll probably find out about it before the meeting.”

Last night, Miki had sneaked into Morozov’s office and used his computer to send an email to one of the nine White Nights Energy managers attending the conference, a man named Yagudin. She had offered to sell the production rights to Morozov’s product to Yagudin himself, independent of the company, so he could start his own business and leave the other twelve with nothing. She then forwarded the email to Plushenko and Trankov, two of the other managers, as if by mistake.

“I have to go,” said Miki. “But please call me as soon as you can.”

“Okay.”

Elena fixed her hair in front of the mirror, then slipped back out into the office. The employees were gathering around the windows, gawking at a silver Mercedes-Benz pulling up to the building. Adam, a preppy-looking retail representative with oversized bootleg Gucci glasses who always smelled like cheap cologne, was giving live commentary, gesturing and exclaiming as if it was a sporting event. Then again, Adam was always gesturing and exclaiming, even if he was just trying to explain how he liked his toast cut.

A man in his late thirties sprang from the driver’s door as soon as the car stopped rolling. He took the steps to the office two at a time and bounded towards the elevator.

“That, my dears, is Yagudin,” said Adam. “His mind is like a diamond, but believe me daddy, he will cut you.”

An older woman emerged from the passenger’s door. She was quite stout, but it gave her a commanding presence. She must have been in her seventies, but she kept her hair blonde and curled, and she wore bright lipstick and a fluttering silk scarf in a brilliant shade of fuchsia. She sighed as she marched after the man into the building.

“Okay, the fancy broad down there is Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova,” said Adam, sounding out each syllable. “But one day, the people at that big brainy facility up in St. Pete decided that is one helluva long name, so they thought, ‘Why don’t we just call her TAT?’ Like ‘cat’, but with a T. I mean, people. Where is the respect? You work your fanny off for, like, a gazillion years to become the founder and CEO of White Nights Energy, and they cut your name down to three letters? That’s just…that’s just rude.”

Five minutes later, three young men arrived in a black sedan. The first two looked alike as brothers—tall, fit, neatly trimmed beards with dark hair slicked back from their brows. The third man was even taller than both, but his hair was the light brown of sand and his clean-shaven face was boyish and innocent.

“I told you we would be late!” said one of the bearded men, checking his watch. “Nine-o-seven—that’s seven minutes past due!”

“Must I remind you,” said the second bearded man, clapping his comrade on the shoulder, “that the meeting doesn’t begin until nine-thirty?”

“All right, let’s give it up for those three fine-looking fellas down there,” said Adam. “The impatient one is Trankov, the one with the dreamy eyes is Klimov, and the one with the baby face is called Englebert or something.”

“Enbert,” said Kaitlyn.

“Yes, that’s right, Enbert. I forgot his name because, well, let’s be real—I was too busy looking at his booty. My oh my, is that man ‘all about the bass’ or what? You know, when I studied abroad in Italy, there was this artist who had—”

Kaitlyn nudged him. “When you say you studied in Italy, you mean when you would go study at that Italian café down the street from the university.”

Adam frowned. “Don’t burst my bubble, honey. You know, a wise man once said, ‘Any poor soul can travel to Venice, as long as Venice is in the soul.’ I’m just living by that quote.”

Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose. “Adam, you made that up yourself.”

He shrugged. “As I said, they were the words of a wise man.”

On the far end of the office, Elena caught sight of Ksenia ducking into the lunchroom, carrying the box of hors d’oeuvres. Elena shook her head frantically, begging her not to switch them out, but Ksenia didn’t even look her way.

“Oh-oh-ho-ho-ho,” said Adam. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed. The cavalry’s coming.”

Three people alighted from a black Cadillac—an elderly man and two women past middle age. The first woman was short, stout, and bundled in a fur poncho. She squinted up at the building through a pair of small glasses wedged onto her plump face. The second woman was tiny, with dark hair snipped close to her little head. Although the wrinkles on her face suggested she was closer in age to the man than to the other woman, she jogged up to the building ahead of her companions with the energetic steps of a young deer.

“Crash course!” declared Adam. “The old mafia boss guy down there is Alexei Mishin. He honestly looks like he came out of The Godfather, but I’ve heard he’s gotten soft lately. Then the lady with the Elton John glasses is Nina Mozer—she runs the branch with the three hunks. And then Thumbelina there is Tamara Moskvina. She’s like Mama Odie—she’s like two hundred years old but doesn’t look a day over a hundred and ninety-eight. She’s equal parts cool grandma and ninja warrior.”

“Someone’s missing,” said Andrew, a tall employee who reminded Elena of a Disney prince. “There were supposed to be nine.”

Adam tapped his chin, then started counting on his fingers. His eyes brightened as if he’d figured it out, but he shook his head and started over again.

“It’s Plushenko,” said Kaitlyn. “Maybe he’s just late—”

A Cadillac screeched into the parking lot, nearly slamming into Yagudin and TAT’s parked Mercedes. The door swung open, and a blonde woman draped in furs like a mafia wife flung herself from the car with ruthless grace and stalked up to the building.

“And that,” said Adam, “is Yana Rudkovskaya. Actress, beauty blogger, money launderer, psychopath—this woman does it all. She’s basically the love child of Cruella de Vil and Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. Oh, and did I mention she’s Plushenko’s wife?”


	6. Chapter 6

9:20 AM  
Mr. Morozov paced around his conference room, checking his watch every time he reached the long end of the table. The room offered a floor-to-ceiling window in place of one wall, and nine luxuriously upholstered leather chairs. There were usually ten, but he had gotten rid of one so that blonde bombshell he’d met in St. Petersburg last year would have no choice but to sit on his lap.

He had already drank two cups of coffee, but he still felt dazed and drowsy. Maybe he should’ve skipped the bourbon today. Frowning, he took his place at the head of the table and tried to assume a posture somewhere between impatience and boredom. There was a sweet spot somewhere in the middle that conveyed indifference and urgency, but he couldn’t quite capture that essence today. What should he do with his hands? Fold them on the table? Keep them in his lap? Once the blonde showed up, he would have no problem knowing where to put his hands, but he needed a resting pose for them.

He was debating between planting them on the edge of the table and holding the armrests of his chair while leaning back casually when the door swung open. A large woman with an abundance of blonde hair barged in, followed by a man just under middle age. With surprising speed for an old lady, she stormed across the room, shoved one of the chairs out of the way, and punched Morozov’s right eye.

He blinked. Had he just imagined that? She couldn’t possibly have any reason to hate him enough to punch him in the face. Of course, this wasn’t the first time a woman had hit him, but usually it was because she had a pretty roommate or sister who just couldn’t keep her clothes on at the sight of such a charming, influential man.

Slowly, his hand inched up to touch the stinging skin. It certainly felt like a real slap.

“Wow,” he said, trying to look up at her without his eyes watering. He tried to use the same speech he used when he was in hot water with a woman. This lady was old and possibly out of her mind, but she was still a woman. “You have quite a punch. Would you care to explain what that was about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, you deplorable pig! Are you really going to look me in the eye and act like you have no idea who sent those emails?”

“Well, I would look you in the eye, but as you can see, it’s starting to swell up.” He winced. “Who are you?”

The man came up behind the woman. “Alexei Yagudin, manager of the creative department at White Nights Energy. But I would think you should know that, since you were the one who sent me that blasted email and forwarded it on to that foul-mouthed piece of scum!”

Yagudin. The name vaguely rang a bell. And the hag looked sort of familiar, although it would’ve been easier to tell if his eye wasn’t swelling shut.

“Do you have any idea what this could cost the company?” Yagudin barked. “My career depends on keeping amiable relations with the other senior members.”

“Yes, I can see you have an undeniably agreeable personality,” said Morozov.

“Oh, go to hell!” cried the old woman. “Do you even understand what damage you’ve done? If Yagudin’s reputation is damaged, this will give the board members all the more motivation to deny him the promotion to vice president. And do you know who they will choose in his place? No one but Evgeni Plushenko, that pompous idiot who’s wrapped old Papa Mishin around his finger and done nothing to earn his position while poor Yagudin has slaved away for years to build a career for himself!” She slammed her fist on the table, and Morozov jumped, guarding his face with one hand in case she took another swing. “You’ve already ruined this man’s career, and now you insult him to his face? How dare you?”

Morozov was starting to construct a reply that feigned sincerity in an attempt to pour some water on the woman’s fury, but three young men came through the open door—these must be those guys from the Perm branch.

“What the devil is going on here?” said the one with slicked black hair. “By George, we could hear shouting from the elevator. What’s the problem?” Without waiting for an invitation, he plunked into a chair at the opposite end of the table.

The second man, a slightly smaller version of him, nudged him and pointed at the paper name cards on the table that announced where each person was supposed to sit. Grumbling under his breath, the first man got up and took the chair two seats closer to Morozov, which bore the card “Mr. Maxim Trankov”. The third man, beardless with a surprisingly young face, shut the door carefully behind them. The second man took his seat on Trankov’s left under the name “Mr. Fedor Klimov” and the third man sat to Klimov’s left; apparently he was “Mr. Alexander Enbert”.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is!” said the old lady. “Mr. Morozov is nothing but a liar and a coward!”

“What are you even doing here anyways?” said Morozov, trying to keep his voice calm so she wouldn’t know how terrified he really was. He had prepared for a dozen catastrophes in the meeting, but none of them involved everyone hating him. “Who are you?”

The old woman gasped. “I am Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova, founder and CEO of White Nights Energy!”

“Tarasova?” Morozov blinked. “No, that can’t be right. I saw her picture on the Facebook page, and she looked nothing like you. She was young, blonde, skinny…”

The woman’s eyes spat fire at the last word, and Morozov winced. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. But he distinctly remembered that photo—that was the whole reason why he’d sent for her in the first place.

“That’s Evgenia Tarasova,” said Mr. Klimov. “She works in the retail branch in Moscow. But the email you sent specifically said Tatiana.”

“That can’t be.” Morozov frowned, his sluggish brain struggling to sort out how this had happened. Had Elena made an error when she’d sent out the email? He supposed he couldn’t be too upset—he’d hired her for her looks, not for her aptitude. “My secretary must have made a mistake. But never mind that—would any of you like some hors d’oeuvres while you’re waiting? We ordered the finest crab cakes.”

“Crab cakes would be perfect!” Enbert said quickly, ignoring the simmering heat rolling from Tarasova and Yagudin. “I personally adore them!”

Morozov pushed back his chair and stuck his head out the door, his heart racing. “Elena! Bring in the crab cakes!”

No one answered. Elena wasn’t at her desk. Sighing, he turned back to the five businesspeople behind him. “Excuse me for a moment. My secretary isn’t at her post.”

“We don’t mind waiting,” said Mr. Klimov. “In fact, we arrived early, so that means she is right on schedule.”

Morozov hastened out into the main office and bumped right into Ksenia as he turned the corner. “Where’s Elena?” he said. “I need the hors d’oeuvres.”

She blinked. “She’s not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? What do you mean, she’s not feeling well? I have five impatient people in my conference room right now, and if I don’t get some food in their mouths right away, they’ll turn into cannibals. So you tell Elena to get in here with those crab cakes before things get ugly.”

Ksenia folded her arms across her chest. “I said she’s not feeling well.”

“I don’t care! I hired her to take care of my meetings, and I’m not going to pay her for doing nothing! How sick can she possibly be?”

She sighed. “Well, she was cramping pretty bad when she came in this morning, and she went to the bathroom to puke about twenty minutes ago. Apparently the bleeding’s heavier than usual this month.”

Morozov felt the color drain from his face. He considered himself to be a stalwart example of a man—he was not one to grow faint around needles or heights. But there were certain things that made him uncomfortable, and discussing monthly cycles was one of them. His head was swimming, and he winced at the first prickle of a migraine at his temple.

“Anyhow, I can get the hors d’oeuvres for you,” said Ksenia. “I’m sure Elena will be fine.”

“Oh, thank God.” He almost kissed her out of relief. “Do it—as quickly as possible! They won’t wait long.”

He practically sprinted back to the conference room. While he’d been away, three more people had sat down across from the three young men—Mr. Mishin, Ms. Moskvina, and Mrs. Mozer. Tatiana Tarasova had taken the seat at the opposite end of the table, and Yagudin lounged in the chair to the left of Morozov’s, scowling at his phone.

“See, there he is,” said Ms. Moskvina. “I told you he would be coming.”

“Bah!” said Mrs. Mozer. “We almost got ourselves killed trying to get here on time, and he isn’t even here to give us a proper introduction!”

“Oh, hush,” said old Mr. Mishin. “We’re all here in one piece. I don’t see why you have to make every trip sound like it’s the Siege of Leningrad.”

Morozov shook hands with the three newcomers and took his seat, trying to ignore Yagudin’s piercing glare. The pinch at his temple had turned to a low buzzing in the front of his skull. There was still one person missing—Plushenko, wasn’t it?—but if he didn’t start talking soon, he feared the group would turn into a lynch mob. “I must apologize for the delay. It is a pleasure to meet you all, and I hope we will become more familiarly acquainted through cooperation.”

Yagudin snorted. Trankov started chuckling until Klimov elbowed him.

“Welcome to Clean Energy Solutions,” said Morozov, trying to remember his speech. “I am Nikolai Morozov, senior member of the Moscow branch, and it is a great honor to receive you here. I hope you found the hotel arrangements comfortable?”

“Oh, they were quite nice,” said Ms. Moskvina. “Although there was a most curious little incident last night—Mrs. Mozer found a rat in her bedroom! I guess even five-star hotels can have the occasional rodent.”

“It was a nightmare!” said Mozer. “I was lying in bed, watching the evening news—”

“Actually, it was Days of Our Lives,” said Trankov.

Mozer ignored him. “The vile creature slid right under the covers and tried to run across my leg! Oh, I will never forget those horrid claws on my skin!”

The door swung open, and Ksenia appeared with a large tray. About time.

“Here’s the hors d’oeuvres you asked for,” she said, cutting between Trankov and Klimov to set the tray in the center of the table. She stepped back, suddenly noticing Tarasova. “Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova! I am so honored to meet you. I read all about your work on the renewable energy plant in Odessa.”

Morozov made a small gesture for her to leave. Ksenia was a smart, hardworking girl who had let him take credit for some lucrative inventions, but she had this annoying habit of casually talking to important people, as if she thought she was on their level of expertise. Once, he had taken her to a gala in Dubai to look good on his arm and help him keep track of all the turbaned businessmen, and she’d ended up yapping in the prince’s ear about using renewable fuel for his prized racecars.

The old woman smiled. “Oh, you charming girl! And who might you be?”

Ksenia held her hand out to shake. “Ksenia Stolbova, assistant manager of the Moscow branch. I designed the prototypes for the silver reactor that was recently recognized by the IECA.”

Tarasova gasped. “Brilliant! The IECA couldn’t stop gushing about it at their latest seminar. Oh, darling, you are truly a genius.”

Mishin frowned. “I thought Mr. Morozov said he invented it by himself. He never mentioned any collaborators.”

Ksenia shrugged and perched on the edge of the table beside Tarasova, her legs crossed. “I get the work, he gets the glory. That’s how the world works these days. Isn’t that right, Mr. Morozov?” She glanced over her shoulder playfully at him, but there was a hardness in her eyes that made him uneasy.

Morozov laughed awkwardly. The sound seemed to come from far away. “Oh, you tease me too much. Why don’t you go check on Project Moonlight?”

“Already done,” said Ksenia. “The first prototypes are on their way to Paris right now.”

“I see.” His mind raced for another excuse to get rid of her. His collar seemed to be chafing his neck, and he loosened his tie so he could scratch it. “Well, thank you for the hors d’oeuvres. Now why don’t we get this meeting underway?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Trankov, grabbing two crab cakes from the platter. “So, where were we?”

Morozov looked pointedly at Ksenia. She raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge, and snatched a crab cake with her quick, small fingers. Oh, that woman could be so infuriating. He took an hors d’oeuvre for himself and nearly swallowed it whole, willing her to leave. She just chewed pointedly while Tarasova beamed up at her and the other businesspeople turned wary eyes to him. The itch around his neck burned.

“As I was saying,” he said with emphasis, “we are here for cooperation. Our goal is—”

Before he could finish, the door flew open so hard that the knob struck the wall. A tall blonde woman wrapped in furs burst into the room, the fierceness of her steps emphasized by her stilettos. Oh, great. Another person who looked ready to eat his innards while he still breathed. At least this one was pretty, although he couldn’t judge her figure through the heavy coat.

“Which one of you is Mr. Morozov?” she demanded.

Ksenia, her mouth stuffed with crab cake, jerked her thumb towards Morozov’s chair. Traitor.

The woman seized the lapels of Morozov’s jacket and shook him. “You unimaginable swine! You wretched, pathetic excuse of a man!” Her knee dug into his thigh as she leaned over him. “Curse you!”

Well, he had wanted a sexy blonde crawling in his lap, but this was not what he had imagined.

“Excuse me,” said Mr. Klimov, “but there might be a mistake. I don’t think you’re on the invitation list.”

The woman let go of Morozov and flipped her head around with soap-opera level drama. “Do you know who I am? My name is Yana Rudkovskaya, and I demand an answer for this wicked scheme you have all arranged behind my husband’s back!”

Morozov shrank back in his chair. He had heard stories about Plushenko’s extravagant, ill-tempered wife, but he had never imagined he would actually have to meet her. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and he blinked against the white spots in his eyes. The itch on his neck had spread up his chin and along the sides of his clean-shaven face. He definitely needed another crab cake.

“Yana, Yana, calm down,” said Mishin. “We are here to resolve the situation. There’s no need for such hysterics.”

“Shut up, you old fool!” she hissed. “Right now, my husband is in the hospital with a concussion. And do you want to know how he got that concussion?” She prowled around the table like a tiger, then seized Mishin by his collar. “Yagudin came into his room last night and slammed his head into a coffee table. He was raving madly about how Morozov sent him an email that would ruin his career. But did he attack Morozov? No. He attacked my husband. So I came here for revenge.”

“Hold on, hold on!” said Ms. Moskvina. “Let’s not get nasty here. Why don’t we let Mr. Morozov answer for himself before we drag him off to the guillotine. I’m sure he has a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.” She looked at Morozov with hopeful eyes.

Morozov swallowed. His temples were pounding like sledgehammers, and the faces in front of him were turning wavy. His vision was full of black-and-white stripes, as if he was looking too closely at Gomez Addams’s jacket. He reached for the glass of water in front of him, but his hand felt stiff and clammy. His arm shook as he took a long drink. He felt water dribble down his chin and tie.

“Are you all right, Mr. Morozov?” said Ms. Moskvina. “Your face is red.”

“Yes! Yes! I’m fine.” He tried to set the glass down softly, but his hand trembled, and it made a heavy plink against the wood. “I just…it’s stuffy in here. I—”

“Coward!” Yana shrieked. “You can’t even look me in the eye and tell these people what you did. You good-for-nothing, despicable idiot!”

She said more things after that, but Morozov couldn’t understand her. His vision was so blurry now that he had no sense of what was going on. He bent over in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He needed some fresh air. He needed more water. He needed—

The black-and-white lines across his eyes turned to pure black, and he lost consciousness before he could feel himself fall.


	7. 10:00 AM

In all the chaos, no one had noticed Ksenia slip out of the conference room. All eyes had been on Morozov as he lay in a heap on the floor. It had really been quite comical, seeing everyone fuss over him after almost every soul in the room had declared how much they hated him.

Trying to act casual, she scampered into the bathroom. Elena was standing in front of the second sink, playing with her hair. She hadn’t really been vomiting, but the look on Morozov’s face was worth the lie.

“Did it work?” said Elena.

“Out cold. And the meeting was pure chaos.”

Elena’s face broke into a smile of relief. “Tell me all about it!”

“Oh, you should’ve seen it. Moskvina was asking him to explain himself about the email when his face broke out in hives and he started scratching like he had fleas. His eyes bugged out, and he was dribbling water down his shirt like my baby cousin. Tow seconds later, he tipped right over in his chair. Mozer started screaming about witchcraft, Plushenko’s crazy wife said it was karma for what he had done, and Mishin just rolled his eyes the whole time.” A sly smile crept onto Ksenia’s lips. “And TAT called me a genius after I told her I was the one who invented the prototypes for the silver reactor.”

Elena clasped her hands together, squeezed her eyes shut, and let out a high squeal of delight. “This is perfect! It’s exactly what I always dreamed of. Ksenia, I just want to thank you so much.”

She flung her arms around Ksenia’s shoulders and squashed her into a hug. Ksenia stood stiffly for a moment, then let go into the embrace and wrapped her arms around Elena’s waist. She had always thought Elena was overdramatic and flighty, but she was more than happy to share in the celebration of Morozov’s downfall.

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Elena wriggled out of Ksenia’s arms and giggled. “Can you imagine the look on his face when he wakes up and realizes everyone at White Nights Energy hates him? He’ll go insane.”

“That’s impossible. He’s already insane.”

“I meant more insane than usual!” Elena leaned her back against the sink and sighed. “I always wondered what it would be like. To see him shake, just for a second. To see him on his knees, where he couldn’t force me to do anything, where he was at my mercy.” She took a shaky breath and smiled. “It feels pretty good.”

Ksenia scanned her companion’s face. Elena was just twenty-one, and her face still seemed no older than it had been when she’d first arrived at Clean Energy Solutions three years ago. She spoke little at work, always glancing over her shoulder and stammering when someone asked her a question. How much had Morozov intimidated her, manipulated her, frightened her into little more than a skittering shadow? Smiling here under the bright bathroom lights, Ksenia finally saw the playful, charming girl Elena must have been before Morozov had ever laid eyes on her.

Under all this joy, she knew this victory did not mean the end of their troubles. Fifteen minutes of public humiliation would not stop him from stealing her ideas, or harassing Elena, or firing hardworking women like Miki to make room for his daughter. As soon as he recovered from his allergic reaction, there would be hell to pay. But Ksenia had plenty of hell in her savings account for such occasions. She didn’t regret telling Tarasova about the silver reactor; now that it was said, it could not be unsaid. If he found out about the emails or the sleeping powder, she’d take the blame for it, even if that meant she got fired. With any luck, she’d be getting Yagudin’s job at White Nights Energy now that the email scandal had gotten out. Maybe she could recommend Miki for a position there, too.

The bathroom door swung open and Kaitlyn burst in. Her large green eyes were wide and anxious. “There you are! Quick, we’ve got a situation. Mr. Morozov passed out and he’s not getting up.”

“Yeah, he blacked out in the meeting,” said Ksenia. “Give him a shot of bourbon and he’ll wake up in a flash.”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Kaitlyn bit her lip. “They’ve been trying to wake him up for half an hour and he hasn’t responded. I…I think he might’ve had a heart attack.”

Elena gasped. Ksenia’s eyes widened.

“I called the ambulance,” said Kaitlyn. “Last I saw, they were trying to take him to the hospital. But I…I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

Ksenia took a deep breath. The information produced an intense feeling in her, but she wasn’t sure if it was alarm or relief. “Where are they taking him?”

“Oh, probably Arbatskaya Hospital. The paramedics arrived about five minutes ago.” Kaitlyn glanced around nervously, swallowing. “I should go back and check to make sure everything’s all right.”

The moment she left, Ksenia turned around. Elena’s face was white, and her hands were clamped over her mouth.

“What have we done?” she whispered.

Ksenia frowned. “He’ll be fine. Nobody ever died from a rash and some public humiliation.”

“How can you know that? We don’t know just how allergic to shellfish he really is. What if he dies?” Elena grabbed the front of Ksenia’s jacket and shook her. “I’m pretty sure you don’t get a raise for killing the boss!”

“Oh, God!” Ksenia shook Elena off and smoothed out the fresh wrinkles in her shirt. “He probably just passed out from the bourbon. Or embarrassment. Mark my words, he’ll be back behind that desk first thing tomorrow morning.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why would you even care what happens to him?”

“Because he’s in the emergency room!” Elena threw up her hands. “I wanted to get even with him. I wasn’t trying to kill him!”

Ksenia let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll drive you down to the hospital so you can see him sitting there in one piece. I’ll bet you my whole paycheck he’s watching some cheesy soaps with a beer in his hand and a nurse’s booty in the other.”

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to Arbatskaya Hospital in Ksenia’s sleek black convertible. Elena had spent the whole ride with her head in her hands, her face hidden behind her long hair. This whole situation reminded Ksenia of the days when she used to baby-sit the neighbors’ hyper six-year-old son so she could earn enough money for college. He always believed there were aliens on the roof waiting to abduct him, and she was never able to convince him otherwise. It wasn’t until he had slept through the night and woken up in his bed on Earth that he realized it was all in his head.

“All right, we’re here,” she said grudgingly. “Now we’re going to go in there, ask what’s going on, and get out without making a scene. Because if you act like an idiot in there, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you.”

Elena didn’t respond, so Ksenia just slid out of the car and marched up the steps to the hospital’s main entrance. This wasn’t going to take long. In fact, they could probably just ask the secretary what had happened and get out without actually having to visit the old creep.

“How can I help you?” said the elderly woman behind the desk.

“I’m looking for a Morozov.”

“Morozov, Morozov, Morozov.” The woman flipped through a thick book of records, squinting to read her own handwriting. “Oh, yep, he’s on the second floor, east wing, room 212.”

By now, Elena had finally dragged herself out of the car and reached the front desk. She looked pale, nervous, and more dead than Morozov could ever be.

“Second floor, east wing, room 212,” Ksenia told her. “Now let’s move.”

They took an elevator to the second floor, then followed the signs to the east wing, which led to a small waiting room. There were plenty of people here, but Ksenia didn’t recognize anyone from the office.

“All right, you sit down,” she told Elena. “and I’ll talk to the secretary.”

Elena looked all too relieved to sink into one of the few empty chairs in the corner while Ksenia approached the secretary, a stout, thick-faced woman with old-fashioned glasses who seemed completely absorbed in the paperback romance novel propped open next to her computer.

“Excuse me,” said Ksenia. “I need to see any information you have about a Nikolai Morozov. He just checked in.”

The woman didn’t even look up.

“Excuse me.”

Still no response, so she pressed the bell. The woman grunted, and when she finally raised her head, she was practically sneering. Really, it couldn’t have been that good of a book.

“I’m looking for Nikolai Morozov,” Ksenia said.

The woman peered through her glasses and sniffed. “Are you his wife or something?”

The thought would’ve been almost funny if the woman didn’t look so cross. “Oh, no. I’m his business partner. Well, employee. But I do all the work in his company. I—”

“Save it, honey.” The secretary stuck out her double chin. “If you’re not family, you can’t go back there.”

“Then at least tell me why he was admitted.”

“What, are you some kind of cop or something?” The woman frowned. “This is a hospital. That means it’s a place for sick people, not for snoops and spies.”

Ksenia cursed under her breath. She had little patience for people, and even less patience for people who didn’t cooperate. She leaned over the desk, sticking her head in the secretary’s face. “Look, I drove here in the middle of my day because my whiny little coworker wanted to make sure her precious boss didn’t kick the bucket. Frankly, I’d much rather be at the nail salon, but she dragged me here for information, and I’m not leaving till I get it.”

The woman just scowled. “Do you want me to call the police?”

“No, Maria.” Ksenia pronounced the name on her nametag with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I want you to do your job and check if good old Nikolai is still alive and kicking so I can get this kid back home to her mama.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ksenia pulled back from the desk. “You’ve literally got to be kidding me.”

She plopped down next to Elena, who looked nearly unconscious in the chair. “Well, that went well.”

“What happened?”

“Some old biddy told me I couldn’t see the records because I wasn’t related to him.” Ksenia chuckled. “I suppose I could sign a few papers, pop some champagne, and walk off with half the company. I’m sure I could get the upper hand in the divorce.”

Elena just sat still, biting her lip. Ksenia leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. It felt strange to be sitting in a waiting room in the middle of a day. Usually, she’d be talking to the head of the St. Petersburg branch on speakerphone as she calculated the perfect length for the screws in a new generator. Her right hand would be marking the ideal positions for solar panels on a blueprint while the lightning-quick fingers on her left hand hammered out an RSVP to the Pan-Slavic Energy Conservation Society gala. When she finally drove back to her apartment hours after everyone else had left the office, she’d sit in bed with a microwave dinner and fall asleep over sketches of hybrid engines. How many years had she been running around for that man, wearing herself down to nothing so he could smile for the cameras and boast about his awards?

She leaned her head against the wall and let herself relax deep inside. Conversation drifted around her, and she strained her ears, listening to the regular world for the first time in years.

“We did not sit through eight seasons of dragons and the Night King just for Bran Stark to get the throne in the end.”

“So rumor has it Camila and Shawn are coming out with a new duet. I mean, ‘Senorita’ was a bomb! But if I have to see them make out in another music video, I swear—”

“Miss Morozova? We have news about your father.”

The name nudged Ksenia out of her daze, and she sat up, blinking. A nurse was standing about ten feet away, talking to a woman sitting on a long couch against the wall. A potted plant partially blocked Ksenia’s view, but she could hear the conversation as easily as she could hear her own thoughts.

“Is he all right?” said the woman. Judging from her voice, she was quite young, and Ksenia could glimpse a bit of curly dark hair.

A pause. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

Silence. Then the nurse’s voice again.  
“He suffered quite a severe heart attack. He passed a few minutes after he arrived.”

Still no sound from the girl.

“Miss Morozova, I’m so sorry.”

Ksenia barely dared to turn her head and face Elena’s horrified expression.


	8. 12:00 PM

“I should’ve known this was a terrible idea.”

Miki paced up and down the galley kitchen of her apartment, although there was barely space to take three steps before she had to turn around. “I knew it was going to get out of hand, but I went along with it anyways. Now someone’s dead!”

No one spoke. Elena leaned against the sink, gripping the edge of the basin with white knuckles. She was still pale, but her expression had hardened from shock and horror into a flickering indignation. Ksenia perched on the bar counter next to the fridge, her lips pressed into a firm, thin line, her fingers drumming on the countertop in absence of the computer she was used to.

“Don’t you two even understand what just happened?” said Miki. “You came up with a plan that led to his death. That’s murder!”

“It’s not like we planned it,” said Ksenia, frowning at her nails. “It’s not my fault he died after he accidentally ate shellfish.”

“It’s all your fault!” Elena cried out. “You were the one who ordered the appetizers. Because you knew he was allergic. I just wanted to put some sleeping powder in his coffee, but you decided to take it a step further, and that's what killed him. You poisoned him, and now all three of us are going to jail. We’ll be wanted for murder everywhere—there’s probably a price on our heads already!”

Miki stopped pacing, and her mouth fell open an inch, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That’s not the point. The point is that—intentional or not—we killed someone. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to fix it.” She rested her forehead against the fridge. “I can’t go to prison. I can’t leave Sunflower.”

“That—that can’t happen!” Elena’s eyes widened, as if the hard reality of prison had finally crashed in. “There has to be some way we can get away. We can go to another city or something—”

“Forget about trying to get off for it!” Miki’s voice scaled higher. “None of that matters. We killed our boss! We killed a human being. What about his wife? What about his daughter? How can you live knowing you took someone’s father away from them?”

Ksenia slid down from the bar counter and crossed her arms, her mouth curling into an unimpressed frown. “Come on. You aren’t really going to stand around and act like we’re going to miss him, are you?”

“Ksenia!” Miki hissed. “It’s one thing to pull a prank on someone. It’s another thing to commit murder!”

“And another thing to get two of your coworkers arrested along with you!” Elena cried.

Ksenia glared. “What, you’d rather have his dirty hands wandering up your skirt every time he wants a cup of coffee?” She turned to Miki. “You’d rather have him working you to the bone and telling the whole office you’re lazy every time you need to take a day off for Sunflower? You’d rather have him yapping on the phone to the big boss that you shouldn’t get a promotion because you’re just some Japanese chick with broken Russian who got herself pregnant trying to get a green card?”

Miki’s eyes widened, and her hands flew up to her mouth. She blinked several times, taking slow, shaky breaths as the words sank in. Without warning, she slapped Ksenia hard across the cheek.

“Miki!” Elena shrieked.

Ksenia's head swiveled from the blow, and she stumbled back, her hand lifting to touch her stinging face. “I…I heard him on the phone once. The CEO wanted to give you a promotion, but Morozov told him to give it to Adam because your Russian wasn’t as good as his. And the CEO said that didn’t matter, so then Morozov played dirty.” She nearly spat the next words. “He said you weren’t responsible enough to manage a department because you couldn’t even manage your own body.”

Miki was trembling—not with anger, but with horror at what she had done. She swallowed hard and lowered her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I thought you…I thought you just made that up to hurt me. I…I’m sorry.”

“I’m just…I’m furious.” Ksenia clenched her fists. “It makes me so damn furious. Here you were, working your butt off to support Sunflower all on your own while Adam was blowing every kopek of his raise on Gucci shoes and brow waxing. I should’ve said something to him, but I…I didn’t.” She swallowed. “Because I didn’t know how much of it was true. Because I was stupid enough to believe him.”

Miki closed her eyes. “It’s not entirely untrue. In college, I met an exchange student from Moscow. We became very close, and he offered to take me back to Russia after we graduated. We lived together for six months in Moscow, and then I found out I was pregnant. I thought it was the start of a new life for us. But he didn’t want that life.” She sighed. “He threw me out of the apartment and left me on the street. I had no family in Russia and no place to go, and I barely spoke the language. I was lucky to find a job and a place to live. For a while, I was working in some rough places, trying to earn enough to feed Sunflower.”

Elena looked close to tears. “Oh my God, that’s so horrible.”

Miki nodded. “It was difficult. When I first started working for Morozov, I was so grateful to find a steady job even with my poor Russian. I guess I was so used to taking whatever I could get that I never questioned if I could deserve more.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Ksenia took Miki by her shoulders and smiled. It wasn't a carefree, beaming smile; it was an expression of intense power and strength that transferred confidence into Miki's bones. “He's gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re free now.”

Miki’s face crumpled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m not. We’re all going to prison.”

Elena let out a squeaky sob and sank to the kitchen floor, burying her head in her hands. She grabbed a fistful of her dark, loose hair and crushed it in her fist, her shoulders shaking as she started crying.

“Not necessarily,” said Ksenia, straightening her shoulders. “Nobody knows we did it, right? Nobody actually saw us do it. There were, like, twelve other people in the room when he passed out in the conference room, and all of them would be suspects. Not to mention, after those emails got out, I'd say at least half of those people would have a good motive to want him dead. I mean, Plushenko's wife practically throttled him in front of a dozen witnesses, and TAT was cursing him so loudly I could hear it from downstairs. So as long as we don’t seem suspicious for the next few days, people won’t have any way of knowing we were involved.”

“So we act like nothing happened,” Elena finished, lifting her head.

Miki frowned. “You’re suggesting we lie?”

“What else are we supposed to do?” said Elena. “Would you rather spend the rest of your life on the run, hiding in some fishing village in Siberia?”

“Of course not,” said Miki. “I just think it’s risky.”

Ksenia shrugged. “It’s also risky to turn ourselves in and sign up for a seven-year residence in the federal pen. This way, we've at least got half a chance of making it out without going to jail. Chances are, the police will start by questioning everyone who was in the room when he died. That'll keep them busy for a while. Elena wasn't in the room when it happened. And Miki, you weren't even in the building. If they do question you, you just have to act like you don't know anything.” She laughed bitterly. "Trust me, they'll believe you. People always treat women like they don't know anything."

Elena nodded, pulling her knees to her chest. “She’s got a point.”

“Fine.” Miki sighed. “But I still don’t like it.”

“I think you’ll like it better than a prison cell,” said Ksenia.

Miki’s lip curled down in consideration. She blinked once, then twice, and her mouth snapped up into a smile. A sweet, high laugh rang out. Elena giggled, a delightful, merry sound like a glass of bubbling champagne, and it lit up her features so brightly that Ksenia couldn’t stop the laughter rising from her throat. They laughed harder and harder, letting the sound echo against the walls of the little kitchen. For the first time in years, they were all free.


	9. Chapter 9

Monday, 8:55 A.M.

Ksenia was smiling as she pulled up to the office in her freshly washed. She had awakened with a burning excitement to go to work like she'd never felt before.  Today, nothing was going to stop her from doing whatever she wanted. Today, there would be no one to steal her ideas. Today, she was the boss, just like she should have been all along.

Marching up the steep stone stairs, she felt particularly fierce. She’d put on her boldest suit, a tailored black ensemble that turned heads as she strode across the office.

“Morning, Kaitlyn!” she called out as she passed the first desk. “Adam, those new glasses look fabulous.”

Adam kicked his chair back from his desk and adjusted his slim blue frames to take a look at her. “Oh, sweet Britney. Look at you coming in here like a goddess. What’s the secret behind the change of attitude?”

She shrugged. “No secret. Just eager to do my job.”

He frowned and slipped the tip of his pen between his lips. “That’s bull, honey. No one shows up on Monday morning looking like that. Come on, who is he?”

Ksenia scowled. “Why do you always assume that all happiness comes in the form of a man?”

“Oh, relax, girl. I was just joking.” Adam leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his jeweled water bottle, tilting his head as if he was drinking champagne. “Go on, enjoy your work day.”

She rolled her eyes as she swaggered across the room. No one — not even Adam and his ridiculous conspiracy theories — could ruin her day. Tossing her head sassily, she swung open the door of her office.

And cursed.

Morozov was lounging in her chair, his feet propped on the desk over a pile of sketches for her latest thankless project. His coffee was perched at the edge of the tabletop, his coat was slung over the book where she usually hung her jacket, and a cigarette peeped out from between his smug lips.

Her expression must have been impressive, because he smiled as he watched her stare at him.

“Ksenia, Ksenia, Ksenia,” he said. “I’ll bet you didn’t expect to see me this early in the morning. Or at all, in fact.”

“What are you doing here? This is my office.” She tried not to let her voice shake from shock, but she felt dizzy and frozen where she stood.

“Your office?” He adjusted his feet on the desk, emphasizing the thumps as his shoes struck the wood, and twirled his cigarette nimbly between his fingers. “My, my, my. It seems you’ve forgotten who owns this beautiful little building.”

“Get out!” She pointed emphatically at the door. “You aren’t supposed to be here!”

“Oh, really? Good Lord. Twelve hours without me and you already want to pretend you own the company.” He sighed and checked his nails. “Choose your next words wisely.”

She hissed through her teeth, crossed the room with catlike steps, and planted her hands on the desk, towering over him. “Don’t play with me, Nikolai.”

“ _ Don’t play with me, Nikolai _ ?” He clucked his tongue. “Come on, Ksenia. I wasn’t expecting you to come to my hospital room with homemade brownies, but you could’ve at least brought some flowers.”

“Flowers?” For a moment, she felt utterly speechless. “You were pronounced dead on the spot.”

Morozov’s eyebrows met in a perplexed slope. “You know, you could just admit that you didn’t want to bring any flowers. You don’t have to make up a dozen lies and excuses to explain why you didn’t come.” He took a puff from his cigarette and laughed to himself. “As if anyone ever died from an allergic reaction to trace amounts of shellfish. Bah! I was discharged from the hospital in time for dinner.”

She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. The patient who had died was not Morozov, the young woman in the waiting room was not Annabelle, and the real Nikolai Morozov was very much alive and sitting at her desk.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “But I need my office back. Now.”

He blew out a light puff of smoke. “Careful, little kitten. Do I need to remind you that your employment at this company comes directly from me?”

Without warning, he grabbed the front of her blazer, pulling her halfway over the top of the desk. Her heart sprang into her throat as she tumbled forward. She gripped the edge of the desk and fought to keep her footing.

“This lovely little Tom Ford suit…those diamond earrings you bought in New York…the Louis Vuitton suitcase you took on our last business trip to Geneva…it’s all mine.”

She seized his hands and wrenched them away from her lapels. Her skin felt too bare under her suit, too vulnerable to his sickening hands. She was panting with panic, but she glared back at him, daring him to cross her again.

He had never pursued her. He had never used his position as leverage to get an evening alone with her. He had never groped her or even made suggestive remarks. But she knew all too well that the only reason why he did not harass her was because he couldn’t run the company on his own if she quit. He’d rather bother some replaceable secretary like Elena than risk his entire corporation for a few nights of fun.

“Everything you own is  _ mine _ ,” she said. “Because all your money comes from my designs.”

Morozov frowned. “Oh, not that story again. You didn’t really think that Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova would believe that you—a pretty, young little thing like you—would be the mastermind of such a powerful corporation?”

He rose from the desk and reached up to touch her cheek. She slapped his hand away and backhanded him across the face.

“You touch me again,” she said, “and I’ll make sure every person in this industry knows who designs the genius inventions of Clean Energy Solutions. Do you want to try that?”

He drew his hands back slowly. “All right, fair enough. And if you cause any trouble for me again, I’ll make sure everyone knows that you tried to kill me.”

Ksenia’s heart stopped beating, and all the thoughts in her brain collided until only two words ran through her head:  _ He knows, he knows, he knows he knows, heknowsheknowsheknows _ —

Morozov smiled wickedly as he reclined back into his— _ her _ —chair. “Surely you didn’t think I had no clue what you and Elena were trying to do yesterday. I’m well aware that you were the one who ordered the shellfish, and Elena is the only one here who knows my allergies. I must say, the melatonin in the coffee was a particularly clever touch. And I don’t suppose you hacked into my email account the day before and sent that dreadful message to Plushenko. No, Ksenia, I didn’t become a senior manager here by being a complete idiot.”

Her entire face seemed to be pulsing with alarm. “I didn’t try to kill you.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all escape accountability for our crimes by saying ‘I didn’t mean to do it’?  _ I didn’t mean to steal your car—I thought it was my own, I swear. I didn’t mean to sleep with your wife—I didn’t know you two were married for twenty years. I didn’t mean to kill my archnemesis—I accidentally fired a shot and he just happened to step in front of the bullet _ .” He bit on the end of his cigarette. “I’d really love to believe you, sweetheart, but the evidence is pretty clear.”

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to kill you!”

“And isn’t that what all murderers say?” He flicked the cigarette out of his mouth, letting it slip to the floor. “I would’ve called the police already, but I wanted to see your face first.”

Ksenia folded her arms tightly, tucking her hands in her armpits so she wouldn’t reach over the desk and strangle him. “Fine. It was my idea. I asked Elena if you had any allergies, and I slipped some melatonin in your coffee. I was trying to make you pass out during the meeting so I could tell Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova that the inventions were mind.”

“Finally, a confession! That’s better.” He spun his chair until he was facing her dead on. “Of course, I hope you understand that you’re fired. I can’t risk having Rip Van Winkle ruining all my important meetings.”

Her heart was stuttering against her collarbone. Fired. All of her work, all those long hours drawing inventions for that man…

Not daring to take her eyes off him, she grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall and draped it over the desk. He stared incredulously at her as she rounded the desk and propped her foot on the chair between his legs, revealing a pointy-toed leather heel and a generous amount of her leg.

Ksenia leaned in and weaved her fingers under the collar of his shirt. “Now, you don’t  _ really  _ mean that, do you?”

Morozov stuttered, his face burning redder by the minute as she pressed her knee into his chest. “Well, I’m sure we could—”

She grabbed his jacket from the table and wrapped the sleeve around his wrist, pulling his arm up over his head. He shifted in the chair and flushed, clearly seeing where this was going. Before he could put his hands on her, she dug the toe of her shoe hard into his groin.

He cried out in pain and doubled over in his chair. Ksenia caught his wrist, yanked it high over his head, and tied the sleeves of his coat tightly around his hands. He struggled against her, but her knee cracked into his face, allowing her enough time to fasten the knot.

Morozov scrambled to his feet, still unsteady from her blow. She threw her body forward, flipping him and the chair until they both tumbled to the floor. As he tried to recover, she pulled off her blazer and bound his ankles.

“All right, all right, this was a great prank,” he said. “Now untie me!”

Ksenia leaned against the desk, shaking her head and smirking at her handiwork. “I daresay that’s a hell of a waste of a Tom Ford blazer. But I guess it doesn’t matter, because after all, you  _ are  _ the one who got it for me.”

Morozov wriggled across the floor, but his hands and feet were virtually immobilized. “Let me go, or I’ll call the police!”

She frowned nonchalantly. “Good luck reaching the telephone like that.”

He thrashed madly, trying to get to the desk, but she blocked his path. “Help! Help!”

Ksenia rolled her eyes as she drew a square silk scarf from her purse and twisted it threateningly in her hands. “You know, I think this shade of gag would look perfect with your complexion. Of course, silence is an equally becoming substitute.”

His eyes bulged as she picked up the telephone on his desk. “Whoever you’re calling, I’m sure it’s not necessary. We can work this out. Why, I’ll give you your job back. Consider it a favor. You know, violence never solves anything! This all seems quite unnecessary, if you ask me.”

She didn’t even look his way as she spoke into the phone. “Hello? Elena? Meet me at the back door of the office in ten. We’ve got a problem.”


	10. Chapter 10

When Elena opened the door to the office, she was rendered physically speechless.

She wasn’t sure which sight was most shocking: Nikolai Morozov bound hand and foot in Ksenia’s office chair, the Givenchy scarf serving as a gag, or Ksenia sitting cross-legged on the desk, wearing nothing but a strappy black bra with her slim business trousers.

Miki’s eyes were wide, but she kept her face calm as she assessed the circus they’d just walked into. “Do I even  _ want  _ to know what happened here?”

“Surprise,” Ksenia said.

Elena swallowed, but her throat remained hopelessly dry. This could not be happening. They had killed him, they had  _ seen  _ him die—

Miki frowned as she took in the intricate knots binding Morozov’s limbs. She was dressed in a gray sweater and jeans with her long black hair in a simple ponytail. Elena suddenly felt self-conscious of her messy hair and the university sweatshirt she’d thrown on when she’d received the call.

“Well, I’m just dying to hear the story behind this one,” said Miki.

Ksenia frowned. “I told you we had a problem.”

“I would certainly say so! It’s not every day I get called to the office and see my boss tied up like a hostage!”

“ _ Ex _ -boss,” Morozov murmured through his gag.

Elena glared at him.

“He was here when I arrived,” said Ksenia. “The man we heard about was someone else. Hence, Morozov’s still alive.”

“Yes, I can see that!” said Elena. “But I don’t understand how!”

“He got discharged from the hospital last night after his allergic reaction died down.” Ksenia wrinkled her nose. “It’s a shame, really.”

Elena eyed Ksenia suspiciously, taking particular note of how Morozov’s gaze had settled around her exposed bra. “What’s with the stripper outfit?”

Ksenia jerked her head towards Morozov’s bound feet, where the blazer that matched her trousers was hobbling the boss’s ankles. “Trust me, I would’ve used zip ties if I’d had some.”

Miki managed to look only slightly horrified as she circled the scene. “So you tied him up because he came in to work.”

Ksenia scowled. “ _ No _ . I tied him up because he threatened to call the cops.”

Elena’s heartbeat screamed in her ears. “I told you! We’re all going to jail!”

“Nope.” Ksenia slipped down from the desk and repositioned herself between Miki and Elena, seeming perfectly unconcerned about her missing top. “He can’t exactly accuse us of murder if he’s clearly alive enough to press the charges.”

Miki said, “That’s not how it works, Ksenia! You have a man  _ bound and gagged _ in your office. In the law-abiding world, that’s called  _ kidnapping _ !”

Ksenia held up a hand. “Kidnapping requires moving the captive from one location to another. As you can see, he’s still right here where I found him.”

“Against his will!”

Elena frowned. Even with the gag and the jackets around his wrists and ankles, she still didn’t like how Morozov was eying her. “Girls? Can we talk about this somewhere else? Somewhere…more private?”

Miki glanced at Morozov. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll lock him in the office,” said Ksenia. “We can talk in his conference room.”

Elena kept a cautious eye on the boss as they followed Ksenia into the room where the fiasco had started last Friday. She wasn’t sure if this whole situation was amusing or horrifying, but a plan was brewing in the back of her mind, and it wasn’t going to work unless Morozov had no idea what had hit him.

“Okay, we’re alone,” said Ksenia. “Spill it.”

“Well…” Elena’s eyes slid back and forth between Miki and Ksenia. “You said that Morozov was going to accuse us of attempted murder.”

Ksenia sighed emphatically. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Ksenia,” Miki said warningly under her breath.

Elena bit her lip. “Well, he wouldn’t be able to accuse us if he couldn’t remember it had happened in the first place.”

Ksenia scoffed. “And if Thanos didn’t  _ remember _ that he wanted to kill half the universe, he wouldn’t have waged an entire war just to steal all the Infinity Stones.”

Miki tilted her head, not understanding.

Ksenia threw back her head in exasperation. “Doesn’t anyone watch Marvel movies?”

Elena shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be a good idea.”

Ksenia crossed her arms. “Oh, it’s a  _ great _ idea. All we need to do is go to some alternate universe where Morozov doesn’t remember anything that happened since last Friday.”

“And that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say, except you keep interrupting every ten seconds!” said Elena.

“Let her talk,” said Miki, although Ksenia’s mouth was already half open in protest. “Go on, Elena. What are you thinking?”

Elena pushed her hair back from her face. “Well, like I was saying, he can’t have us arrested if he doesn’t even remember that we did anything wrong.”

“Yeah, we heard that part,” Ksenia said before Miki’s elbow met her gut. “But what’s the plan?”

“My aunt’s a hypnotist,” Elena said in a rush.

Miki blinked.

Ksenia stared blankly, then snickered. “A hypnotist.”

Elena groaned. “Yes, a hypnotist.” 

“Oh, we’re screwed,” Ksenia muttered under her breath.

“No, we’re not screwed.” Elena pulled herself up taller. “Aunt Diana was the best hypnotist in Moscow. She was blessed with skills…”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Miki. “But why are we talking about Aunt Diana in past tense?”

Elena squeezed her eyes shut. “Because she died when I was fourteen.”

Ksenia cursed and started pacing across the room, muttering about prison records on resumes.

Miki sighed and glanced at Elena. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Yes,” said Ksenia, “that’s the question I’ve been asking for the past ten minutes. What next—I suppose you’ve got an uncle who’s a fortuneteller?”

Elena rubbed her temple. “No. But Aunt Diana taught her a few of her skills before she died. I could use some of them on Morozov and maybe…maybe we could make him forget what happened to him…what  _ we  _ did to him…and then he wouldn’t try to get us arrested.”

Ksenia snorted. “And maybe we can tell him to triple our salaries while we’re at it.”

“Do you want to stay out of prison or not?” Elena was surprised by the frustration in her own voice. “He knows it was your idea. With a good lawyer, I’m willing to bet that Miki and I can walk free without a scratch on our resumes. But you’ve got blood all over your hands, Ksenia. Are you sure you want to keep it there?”

“She’s got a point,” said Miki.

“Fine.” Ksenia turned around in front of the window. “But while he’s under, you’d better tell him to make me a partner in the company.”


	11. Chapter 11

Miki glanced at the door handle for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes, even though she had locked it herself. So far, no one had come into Ksenia’s office to see what all the fuss was about, but her hands were still shaking and her tongue still felt cold in her mouth with fear.

Elena and Ksenia were perched side-by-side on the desk. Elena was playing absentmindedly with a thin gold chain around her neck. Ksenia, who had put on Elena’s university sweatshirt, was checking her phone. At first glance, both girls seemed completely oblivious to Morozov, still bound and gagged in the office chair. But Miki knew better.

Elena tossed her head, flicking her long, messy curls over her shoulder. “You know, you really brought all of this on yourself.”

Morozov squirmed in the chair at that, but Elena just examined her nails with a satisifed smile.

“Oh, you didn’t really think we just attacked you unprovoked, did you? Although I suppose men like you always believe you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

Miki swallowed. Elena hadn’t given any clear instructions regarding the hypnosis process. She’d merely told Miki to guard the door, placed Ksenia beside her on the desk, and said it was “time to work some magic”.

Elena frowned at a small framed photo on his desk. Miki didn’t have to look at it to know which snapshot was enclosed in the silver filigree—Morozov, his wife, and his daughter standing in front of the Clean Energy Solutions building, looking like a beautiful, perfect family without a secret or sin in the world. “This really is a lovely picture. Annabelle’s grown up so much. And your  _ wife _ …she looks so happy here. You wouldn’t want me to wipe that smile off her face with a little phone call, would you? I’m afraid she won’t be as happy to hear about our little relationship as you’d think.”

Morozov’s entire body stiffened, and he started flailing in the chair, lunging for the telephone. Quick as an adder, Ksenia’s hand slammed down on the receiver and slid it to the other end of the desk, well out of reach.

Elena fiddled with her earring, looking strangely young and harmless. “But who am I to judge? I’m just the secretary with the small brain and the big boobs. I’m just the chick on the side who should be bowing down to your generosity for not slandering me to my professors. Who would possibly want to hear my lowly opinions or feelings about anything?”

Miki’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. Even Ksenia looked up from her phone, her face softened in something that was almost admiration.

“How does it feel?” Elena leaned forward and ran her finger along Morozov’s cheek. “How does it feel to be threatened and silenced, to be helpless at the hands of someone with the power to destroy your life? How does it feel to live every day in fear that someone will expose all your dirty secrets if you don’t nod along and follow them blindly?” She grabbed the thick leather armrests and shook his chair. “ _ How does it feel? _ ”

“Elena!” Miki said, a warning.

Ksenia grabbed Elena’s arm and half wrenched her away from Morozov, guiding her towards the door where Miki stood. “What do you think you’re doing? You said you were going to hypnotize him.”

“I know, I know!” Elena winced. “But before I wiped all his memories, I…I wanted to call him out for what he did. I wanted to speak up for myself without being afraid of what he’d do to me. I wanted to make him suffer the consequences before he forgot what he did.”

Miki’s heartbeat quickened. She had never imagined she’d find herself in a situation where Morozov was powerless against them, where she could say whatever she wanted without fear of punishment. In fact, if she had been in Elena’s shoes, she would’ve done the same.

And come to think of it, all three of them were in the same shoes.

“Okay, awesome,” Ksenia whispered emphatically. “But what about the hypnosis?”

“That’s what I’m doing!” Elena whispered back. “The first step of hypnosis is to engage the listener in a casual yet fascinating conversation.”

Ksenia scowled. “So you’re going to have brunch with him?”

“Of course not! You can’t just have any regular conversation with someone and expect them to fall under hypnosis. There’s a  _ strategy _ —a strategy that was working perfectly until you interrupted me!”

“Oh, my bad.” Ksenia stepped back, but her expression was still suspicious. “Go on, then. Chew him out, then put him under—fast.”

Miki straightened her shoulders. “I’d like to do that too. Talk to him before we erase his memories.”

“Not you too, Miki!” said Ksenia.

Elena folded her arms. “Come on, Ksenia. Surely you’re dying to tell him off. I can just see it in your eyes right now.”

“We’re supposed to hypnotize him, not put him on trial.”

Elena tilted her head. “Who said we can’t do both?”

Ksenia wrinkled her nose, but she couldn’t stop the sly smile spreading across her lips. “Well, I suppose a little boss-bashing never killed anyone. And he definitely has it coming.”

Elena let out a high squeal as she linked hands with both women. “All right. Let’s do this. Miki, you can go first.”

Miki blinked and glanced at Morozov, still struggling in vain to free himself. Ksenia had reinforced the bonds with some rope she’d found in the storage closet, ensuring that their troublesome boss wouldn’t run. But no matter how appealing the idea sounded, the proposition of venting all her frustration at him still made her uneasy.

“You got this, Miki.” Ksenia patted her firmly on the shoulder. “Give him hell.”

Elena and Ksenia offered reassuring hand squeezes as Miki pulled herself tall, straightened her clothes, and crossed the room to the immobile Morozov. It felt strange to tower over him, to speak freely without interruption. That Givenchy scarf was truly a lifesaver.

“Hello, Mr. Morozov,” she said softly. “Remember me?”

He slithered around in the chair, but he didn’t nod yes or no.

She took a deep breath. “I imagine you’re probably expecting me to berate you and curse you and tell you what a horrible boss you’ve been. But I don’t need to repeat facts you already know. I don’t need to share my opinion on this topic, because there’s no point in debating the truth. So I just want to thank you.”

She heard Elena gasp and glimpsed Ksenia’s wide eyes before she went on.

“Yes, I want to thank you. You taught me that I was not capable of earning a living elsewhere because I am a woman and an immigrant. You taught me to be grateful for basic human decency and to expect nothing from the world. You taught me that I was less deserving of happiness because unlike you, I love my daughter more than my job.” She locked his eyes in a hard stare—not necessarily hostile, but full of confidence and strength. “But you also taught me that I hate to get less than I deserve. I hate being treated like I’m replaceable just because I’m not the smartest or fastest worker here. I hate being told that I will never find a future outside of these walls.”

“Oh, yasssss,” Elena said under her breath.

Miki inclined her head. “But you can’t control my life forever. My happiness is in my own hands now. In fact, Javier just asked me on a date this morning, and I said yes.”

Elena gasped.

Morozov’s face was purple with shock. Miki hadn’t intended to break the news so suddenly, but the words had sprung from her mouth before she could stop them. Her stomach felt full of fire, but the hotter it burned, the cooler her soul felt. She hadn’t even realized how much animosity she’d felt towards him, how those tiny slights and daily insults had woven themselves into a formidable blade in her chest. She had let him push her down, going the extra mile just to guarantee the bare minimum. She had accepted her position next to the chopping block and taken on the mantle of the worker at the bottom of the heap, hanging onto her job by a thread.

Morozov’s eyes were still bulging out of her head as she turned on her heel and rejoined her two companions.  _ Companions _ —that was a new word in her vocabulary. All the friends she’d ever known were still back in Japan. She had never been close to anyone in Russia, too busy running to keep up with this strange new country she didn’t understand.

“Girl, you killed it!” said Elena. “The look on his face when you—”

Before she could finish, Ksenia was stalking over to the desk, scorching Morozov with a razor-sharp glare as she took her turn.

“What you just heard,” she hissed into Morozov’s ear, “will sound like a lullaby compared to what I have in store for you.”

“Is it wrong that I almost feel bad for him right now?” Miki whispered to Elena.

“Shh,” said Elena. “This is primetime entertainment.”

Ksenia slammed her fist on the desk. “Listen up! First of all, I’ve sent all my designs to Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova—under  _ my  _ name. Second, I’ve called the dean at Elena’s university and told him about how you bribed the professor. It’s funny how quickly people listen to you when you tell them you’re the senior manager of a major energy company. And that’s the third thing: I took your job.”

Morozov’s face contorted, and he managed to pull his lips over the edge of the scarf. “You’re insane! You won’t get away with this!”

Ksenia stuck out her chin. “We’ll see about that. Oh, and Adam called your wife and told her you’ve been sleeping with Elena.”

Elena’s eyes filled with panic, and she started backing towards the door, her hands covering her mouth. Her face was red from shame and white from shock, but Ksenia didn’t take her eyes off Morozov.

He threw his body forward and lurched out of the chair, his bound feet slipping as he tried to balance. “You lie! You can’t—”

“Miki, unlock the door,” said Ksenia.

Miki’s hands felt numb, but she turned the latch and stepped forward. She had been so absorbed in Ksenia’s speech that she’d failed to hear the footsteps approaching the office. Her spine turned to ice, and she shook her head at Ksenia.  _ Someone’s coming _ .

But Ksenia just nodded. As if this had been part of the plan all along.

Before Miki could fasten the lock again, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender woman. Thick waves of heavily bleached hair fell down the shoulders of her fashionable gray coat. She was in her mid-forties, but her sharp features still held a frigid beauty that sent a shiver down Miki’s back.

Morozov’s wife.


	12. Chapter 12

Elena had only ever seen Eteri Georgievna Morozova in pictures. After all, it was always awkward for the wife and the mistress to go for coffee together. Yet as the woman’s sharp eyes took in the sight of her husband being held captive by three of his employees, Elena instantly recognized the lady standing in the doorway.

And the only person who looked more shocked than she felt was Morozov.

His face blanched like flour when he caught sight of Eteri glaring at him from across the room. The rest of her features were deathly calm, and her eyes were filled with bone-numbing coldness rather than burning, passionate anger.

“Eteri Georgievna,” Ksenia said from the desk. “So glad you received the message.”

Morozov looked ready to puke into his Givenchy gag.

“Which one of you is the secretary?” Eteri said. Her voice was flat yet chilling, demanding an answer and silently threatening punishment if she did not receive one.

Elena’s feet turned to ice, and she tried to stumble back, away from Eteri’s deadly gaze. Miki grasped Elena’s arm to prevent her from tipping over.

Eteri frowned. “Well, that wasn’t too hard to figure.” She scanned Elena with a disapproving sniff. “Some American consultant named Adam told me that the secretary’s been doing more than filing papers around here.”

“Only because Morozov here threatened her to do it,” Ksenia said. “Which is illegal, by the way.”

Eteri didn’t even look at any of them as she marched over to Morozov. She pushed past Ksenia, stood before the chair, and delivered a firm slap across his face.

The clap of her hand against his skin sent Elena into a whirlwind of fear and awe. She had always sensed an uneasy tremble in Morozov’s voice whenever he mentioned his wife, but she had never pictured that he was married to such a…savage.

“I came here right away,” Eteri said, “right after I filed for divorce.”

Miki gasped. Morozov’s eyes had swelled to a pair of bicycle wheels on his face.

Eteri laughed evilly. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You didn’t really think you were going to screw around with your secretary  _ and  _ keep me chained to your side forever, did you?”

The gag blocked any further comment.

“And do you know what the best part is?” Eteri sat on the armrest of the chair and kicked the desk, spinning them around. “You never made me sign a prenup.”

And Morozov fell headfirst out of the chair.

TWO YEARS LATER:

“Clean Energy Solutions. What can I do for you?”

Ksenia spun around in the rich leather chair of her new office and pressed the speakerphone button on the control panel, allowing the caller to talk while she poured herself another cup of coffee.

“This is Tatiana Anatolievna Tarasova,” said the woman on the other end of the phone. “Go find Ksenia Stolbova and tell her that I need to meet with her at once.”

Ksenia took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. “This is Stolbova speaking. What can I do for you, Mrs. Tarasova?”

“Well, I need to set up an appointment to discuss the new cooling system you showed at the Energy Association expo.” The old woman paused. “But I also want to ask a special favor for myself.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well…” A chuckle crackled through the phone. “I was just wondering if you could tell me what  _ really  _ happened to that old son of a gun who used to run the Moscow branch.”

Ksenia bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Well, there’s not much to be said. One day, he didn’t show up to work, joined a band of hippies, and never came back around.”

The laughter on the other end of the line echoed against the walls of her new office, and as Tarasova guffawed on as if she’d lost her mind, Ksenia couldn’t help laughing along.

The official story wasn’t even that far from the truth. The ruthlessness Eteri had shown that day they’d tied up Morozov was nothing compared to the heartlessness she’d shown during the divorce. In addition to the luxury clothes she’d bought with her new fortune, the Ferrari now registered in her name, and the sexy gardeners she’d hired at the now-empty mansion, she had received the Moscow branch of Clean Energy Solutions. Eteri had no use for a glorified power company, so she’d sold it to Ksenia in exchange for enough money to buy herself a timeshare in Sochi.

Contrary to popular belief, Morozov had not been fired. When the judge had awarded the company to Eteri, Morozov had swiftly quit his position and moved into a shabby apartment with some delinquent punks. The fear of having his ex-wife as his boss had apparently filled him with a sudden urge to explore new horizons far from the energy business. Or perhaps it was because Ksenia had informed every inventor in the field that all of Morozov’s inventions had actually been the work of his genius assistant.

“All right, I was wondering,” said Tarasova. “Send my love to the girls.”

Ksenia leaned back in the chair and sighed. How many years had she wasted waiting for Morozov to give her even a tenth of the respect she had rightfully earned, when this was what she had deserved all along? She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the leather chair, savoring the moment of silence in her busy day.

The buzz of her pager startled her out of her daze, followed by Adam’s cheerful voice blasting out of the speakers.

“Oh, my queen, do I have a big surprise for you. You’ve got two special visitors down here. Should I let them in, or should I tell them ‘abandon all hope, ye who enter here’?”

Ksenia laughed. “I don’t know why I still pay you for these pranks.”

“Then I’ll take that as a yes. Incoming in five…four…three…two…one…”

She cut off the message with him before the door opened. It was Miki and Javier, arm in arm as they entered the office. They were smiling so broadly at each other that Ksenia couldn’t help feeling instantly at ease in their presence.

“ _ Buenos dias, senorita _ !” Javier exclaimed. He glanced around the office, then blushed. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything. I know running a big company keeps you busy, busy, busy!”

“It’s fine.” Ksenia turned off the speakers and looked up at the couple. “What brings you in?”

“Well…” Miki pressed her lips together, as if trying to contain a secret. “I know you’ve been working day and night lately—and thanks to you, Clean Energy Solutions is booming, by the way. But I do hope you can spare a day off in October.”

Ksenia raised an eyebrow. “What’s in October?”

Javier and Miki exchanged glances, then nodded at each other. Miki extended her left hand over the top of Ksenia’s computer, revealing a diamond ring.

“Oh my God,” Ksenia said. “What—what in—”

“We’re getting married!” said Javier.

Ksenia laughed. “I could figure that! I just—I don’t know what to say!”

“Why don’t you say you’ll be a bridesmaid in my wedding?” said Miki. “And before you say no, I want to promise I won’t put you in an ugly dress.”

“Of course I will,” said Ksenia. “Anything for my favorite team leader and international consultant.”

Javier and Miki both beamed with pride at the titles Ksenia had given them last year. Javier’s enthusiasm had inspired the entire team on the third floor to work more efficiently, and Miki’s fluency in Japanese had helped them set up a collaboration with a renewable energy plant outside Tokyo.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Miki. “I already asked Elena and she said yes. She’s bringing that new guy from her history class—I met him last month, and if you ask me, he’s a keeper!”

Ksenia rose from her desk, pushed in her chair, and linked her arm through Miki’s. “Let’s go out and celebrate—drinks on me.”

Miki blinked. “But aren’t we supposed to be working?”

A mischievous grin crept across Ksenia’s face, and she laughed. “Remember? I’m the boss.”


End file.
